


somewhere, even now, in spring

by presumenothing (justjoy)



Series: WIP CLEARANCE 2K20 [2]
Category: Bleach
Genre: (insofar as i remember canon), Canon Compliant, Gen, Missing Scene, in which nanao pulls a fast one on c46 because screw 'em
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:48:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26557633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justjoy/pseuds/presumenothing
Summary: “What is the meaning of this?”“I am a vice-captain. Not a candidate.” She holds her head high, an unspoken dare. “Whether I transfer to the First Division or not, that is my rank. I will not have you address me as any less.”The commotion bursts forth again, louder this time, and Nanao waits.(Shunsui and Nanao, en route to the First Division.)
Relationships: Ise Nanao & Kyouraku Shunsui, Ise Nanao/Kyouraku Shunsui, Kyouraku Shunsui & Ukitake Juushirou
Series: WIP CLEARANCE 2K20 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1931416
Comments: 5
Kudos: 35





	somewhere, even now, in spring

**Author's Note:**

> most of this was written circa 2016 and intended to be part of longer fics that never quite happened for… various reasons… so it’s a little dusty and pieced together at parts, but here it is anyway!
> 
> scenes are not necessarily in chronological order, but they all take place in between the transfer from eighth to first division

**i.**

Shunsui lands lightly on the walkway to Ugendo, barely disturbing the shimmering surface of the lake beneath. Jushiro’s reiatsu is a bright point inside, strong and steady as it ever is, and a quick scan shows that his Third Seats are back at the division barracks.

Good. He’s not planning to discuss anything particularly confidential, but all the same Shunsui doesn’t really want to be disturbed, not now – he’s got enough things on his mind as it is.

He walks forward, calling out. “Ukitake?”

“Ah, Kyouraku!” There’s the sound of approaching footsteps before his friend appears in the doorway, smiling. “Do come in. Tea?”

Shunsui shakes his head as he enters, declining the offer. “Can’t stay for long today, sorry.”

Jushiro raises an eyebrow, taking a sip from his cup of tea – not one of his medicinal blends, Shunsui is glad to note, since it means that his cough isn’t troubling him today. “Oh? No time for your old friend?”

Shunsui attempts a wry smile, though it feels unconvincing even to him. “I’m going to see the Central 46 after this.”

“Ah, I see.” The last trace of humour fades from Jushiro’s face as they settle in their customary seats by the window. “That quickly?”

“The summons came this morning.” There’s no need to explain further, and Shunsui is glad for that – he still isn’t sure that he’s quite come to terms with the contents of those summons yet. It’s odd enough to think about the fact that he’s been promoted to a rank above his friend’s, when they’ve been equals in every way for so long.

Shunsui sighs, and resists the urge to rub at his temples. It’s barely even mid-morning, and he still has so much more that he plans to accomplish later today, but he can already feel the beginnings of a killer headache coming on.

A distinctive _clink_ makes him look up to see a teacup on the table in front of him. Shunsui nods a silent thanks to Jushiro, who looks at him with a sympathetic expression, and takes a sip of the tea. One of the decaffeinated blends, he thinks, that Rukia-chan had bought for her captain during a trip to the Human World.

Not something he’d usually drink, but it’s helpful now, a soothing warmth. He takes another sip before setting the cup down. “Nanao-chan will be following me to the First Division.”

“Oh, is that so?” The mild bemusement in Jushiro’s voice suggests that he’s already guessed, more or less, the events leading up to this decision. “I’m glad.”

“So am I,” Shunsui says, and it’s nothing less than honest.

But something of his thoughts must still have shown on his face, because Jushiro smiles and answers, a little chidingly, “You can’t protect her forever, you know.”

“Yeah.” He wonders if he sounds as glum as he felt. “I know.”

The conversation lapses into silence, then, while Shunsui drinks more of his slowly cooling tea and contemplates asking Nanao to stock some of it at the First Division. He hardly needs any prophetic tendencies to know that he has many headaches looming in his immediate future.

 _Many_ is probably an understatement. Shunsui doesn’t want to _know_ what the paperwork at the First Division is like… and that might even be the least onerous part of it.

He suppresses another sigh, and finishes the rest of his tea before rising to leave – he still has to reach the Central 46 at a reasonable hour, if he wants to get anything else done today. “See you later?”

“Of course. You’re welcome here anytime, you know. Even when you’re the Captain-Commander,” Jushiro adds the last bit teasingly, but the invitation is genuine as it had ever been.

Shunsui feels his mood lighten a little as he steps back out, shading his eyes from the sudden brightness of the sun. “I don’t know, I think Yama-jii might have an aneurysm. His worst student, taking over his office?”

“Don’t be daft, Kyouraku. You might’ve been Genryuusai-sensei’s most undisciplined student, but in all other respects he’s always thought of you as one of his best!” Jushiro’s expression is wistful. “I do wish he’d told you that more often.”

“Oh, I think Nanao-chan might disagree quite vehemently on that, Ukitake. As she regularly points out, my ego is big enough already as it is.”

Jushiro chuckles. “Did she say that, really? I suppose I must defer to the lady’s judgement on this matter, then.”

“That’s what I always do!” Shunsui answers breezily, and is about to move into shunpo when Jushiro speaks again, stopping him.

“Before I forget – if the Eighth Division needs anything, Kiyone and Sentarou would be more than happy to help, I’m sure.”

Shunsui knows he looks surprised, because he feels it. Not at the offer of help from Jushiro, but as for his subordinates… “Really? Aren’t they swamped with work now that Rukia-chan is out of commission for the time being?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Shunsui. Ise-san has been nothing but helpful to the Thirteenth Division in all these years – honestly, I don’t know how my Third Seats would’ve managed without her guidance, she was practically running _both_ of our divisions at some point.” Jushiro smiles with no little amusement. “It would be ungrateful of us not to return the favour. Though I have no doubt that she’s already had the training schedules and requisitions for the next six months planned out since the start of this year.”

Shunsui grins. “That goes without saying. I _do_ have the best vice-captain in the Gotei 13, after all. The First Division won’t know what hit them.”

He gives a jaunty tilt of his hat in answer to Jushiro’s laugh, and steps away in a flash of wind, towards whatever awaits him in the chambers of the Central 46.

* * *

**ii.**

“Step forward, vice-captain candidate Ise Nanao.”

“No.”

A brief burst of commotion, until it’s silenced by the sharp rap of good – from somewhere in the higher levels of the chamber, Nanao’s peripheral vision tells her. “What is the meaning of this?”

“I am a vice-captain. Not a candidate.” She holds her head high, an unspoken dare. “Whether I transfer to the First Division or not, that is my rank. I will not have you address me as any less.”

The commotion bursts forth again, louder this time, and Nanao waits, reading the flares of reiatsu until – there.

She turns towards the particularly intent flare as the councilman speaks. “And why should we do that? Your records state that you were only appointed to the position of vice-captain on the strength of your kidou. Your zanjutsu and hakuda scores are disappointingly dismal, at best. Why should we even believe that you are qualified to hold the position you claim?”

“That’s funny.” She keeps her voice even, but that’s enough to carry her words around the now-quiet chamber. “And here I was just about to suggest that my kidou would be the best defence the Captain-Commander could have against our Quincy enemies.”

If the chamber had been silent before, the hush now is absolute.

Nanao flexes her fingers slightly and waits. She knows this dance better than she would like to – how to play the waiting game, to breathe the tension that fills every moment without drowning herself. She’d waited, when her captain went to fight in the replica of Karakura; then again, when he’d gone to face the Quincy that’d cost him his eye.

She’d wait again now, so that she wouldn’t be left behind the next time.

Finally, the same voice from earlier speaks up again. “Do you mean to imply that you have a means of stopping the Quincy with your kidou, Ise Nanao?”

“I’m glad you asked.” Nanao smiles thinly, concentrating the reiatsu gathered in her left hand – she _can_ wait, but she’s done staying behind, and she’ll prove it to anyone who asks. “Would you care for a demonstration?”

* * *

**iii.**

Nanao is almost halfway through the dangerously teetering stack of paperwork in the Eighth Division’s office – she’d instructed Third Seat Enjoji to leave any documents requiring authorisation above his level in their office – when she feels the echo of familiar reiatsu against her own.

Her fingers tightens around the division stamp she holds before she deliberately loosens them again, authorising one last document and adding it to the stack of completed paperwork.

She doesn’t turn at the sound of the screen door opening behind her, merely returns the stamp to its lacquered box before rising to put the stack of completed paperwork on the table by the door.

Nanao is a master of working through distractions; you had to be, to get _any_ productive work done at the Eighth Division. Especially within any proximity of their captain. But if she had been finding it hard to concentrate before, when she’d been trying to stave off the beginnings of a bad headache from the intense expenditure of reiatsu, she knows she isn’t getting any work done now.

She stands, still with her back to the screen door, and forces down a deep breath before speaking. “Why are you here, Kyouraku-taichou?”

“I sensed your reiatsu coming from the direction of the Central 46, Nanao-chan.” He doesn’t try to evade the question, which she’s thankful for – she doesn’t have the energy to deal with his usual antics right now, cheering as that might be. “Can you blame me for being curious about what had happened?”

“The Central 46 was… concerned, shall we say, about your choice of candidates for the vice-captain position.”

Of course, her captain reads between the lines immediately. He’s always been like that: perceptive when she least wants him to be. “They questioned your right to be a vice-captain?”

Nanao purses her lips, contemplating briefly before finally deciding to get it done and over with. “I received a summons from the Central 46. They wanted to assess my suitability as a vice-captain for the First Division. I complied. That is all.”

He frowns. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“It was easily dealt with. Not something worth your time, _Kyouraku-soutaichou_.”

She sees him draw back a little at her words, at the emphasis on his new title, but any dim hope she’d had of him dropping the topic swiftly proves itself mistaken. “They’re overstepping their bounds. A captain has every right to select a vice-captain he feels is suitable for the position, as long as they’ve passed the proficiency test. You said so yourself.”

“I did.” Nanao acknowledges his words with a sharp nod, ignoring the spike of pain behind her eyes at the motion. “But it’s only understandable that a candidate for the vice-captain of the First Division might be subject to closer scrutiny than the usual, especially with an impending war.”

It goes unsaid, between them, that Third Seat Okikiba had not undergone any such questioning before his promotion; merely the usual proficiency test for the position.

He shakes his head, and she can see him thinking, can already guess what he plans to do next. “This is unacceptable. I cannot allow them to undermine-”

“ _Taichou,_ ” she says firmly, and he stops – though whether in reaction to her tone, or to the rarity of her interrupting him, she can’t tell. “Leave it be. Like I said, I handled it already.”

When it still looks like he’s going to object, she sighs. “Taichou. Do you trust me or not?”

She sees the moment he relents, because she’s looking for it and because he let her. “Don’t go asking questions you already know the answer to, Nanao-chan.”

Nanao raises an eyebrow. “Then I wouldn’t have to ask anything, ever. Would that be preferable?”

Her captain blinks in surprise at her for a moment before finally letting out a short laugh. “Well, I suppose I _was_ rather asking for that one, wasn’t I?”

Nanao smiles despite herself – that might’ve been the first time she heard him laugh, _really_ laugh, ever since the death of Yamamoto-soutaichou, and much as she wishes the circumstances were different this is probably as good as they’re going to get for some time. “Indeed. I’m afraid that your time at the First Division has rather dulled your wits, sir.”

He chuckles again, eyes shining with mirth, though his voice mirrors hers in seriousness when he speaks. “Now, we can’t have that, can we? I must insist that the Central 46 approve your transfer immediately, otherwise I might just contract a terminal case of seriousness.”

Nanao pretends to think for a moment. “I don’t know, Kyouraku-taichou. That might be an improvement, if it would help you with finishing this miniature mountain of paperwork here.”

He groans exaggeratedly as she indicates the stack bearing his half of the paperwork. “ _Must_ you ruin the moment so cruelly, Nanao-chan?”

She scoffs, turning back to her desk. “This is hardly what I’d consider cruel, taichou. Sasakibe-fukutaichou once told me that the First receives thrice as much paperwork as any other division.”

There’s a disgruntled mutter from behind her at this development (“a military organisation, not a _paperwork machine_ -”) but he sits down, at least.

She’d just settled back to her work, taking out her brush again – looks like she _is_ going to get some more work done after all – when her captain’s voice floats over. “So? How did you convince them, Nanao-chan… your stunning looks? Your superior wit?”

“Neither. Actually, I could use your help with that. _After_ you finish the paperwork,” she adds crisply, just as he looks up in hope.

(It’s fortunate, really, that she’s already had the training and patrol schedules for the division planned out for the next few months to come. She signs off on another requisitions form, and lets herself quietly revel in how things feel nearly like they were before – well, not quite, since that would’ve meant a distinct lack of anyone sitting across from her, actually _doing_ his paperwork for once.

But it _is_ the same, in the ways that matters, and that’s almost more than she could ask for, right now. It’d do.

* * *

**iv.**

It’s hours later before they leave the office together, heading for one of the training rooms in the First Division.

Well – not just _any_ of them. This particular one, according to her captain, had been built by Yamamoto-soutaichou himself, and both he and Ukitake-taichou had trained in there as students.

Nanao can see why, when they steps into the wide space.

She’d told him that she needed a sturdy space, one that could reliably contain any spell backlash, and this more than fits the bill. She doesn’t need to touch the walls to recognise the strong pulse of barrier kidou sunk deep into them, reinforced by sekki-sekki in the corners; she assumes those would help to bleed away any excess reiatsu hitting the barriers.

Nanao checks anyway, aiming a high-powered Shakkaho at the nearest wall – you could never be _too_ careful, especially when it comes to experimental work. The fireball hits and fizzles out, red sparks dissolving harmlessly into the barrier.

She nods in satisfaction, and her captain speaks from behind her. “Impressive, isn’t it? Ukitake and I did most of our training here, otherwise we’d have demolished at least half the Academy by the time we mastered shikai.”

As she walks to the centre of the room, Nanao tries to picture the two as young shinigami-in-training, new enough to their powers to misjudge the strength of their attacks that badly, and can’t.

She shakes her head, and turns to find her captain watching her intently as she gathers her reiatsu to a bright flare around her left hand, before sending it out to form a thin rectangular wall that shimmers into existence between them.

“So this is what you showed them?” Her captain needs no invitation to step forward, though he waits for a nod before reaching out to knock lightly against the wall of reiatsu. “A barrier?”

“One that can withstand the Quincies,” Nanao confirms absently, frowning as the barrier ripples slightly under his prodding; that won’t do, she’ll have to adjust the reinforcement structure again. “Or at least it will be.”

She doesn’t need to look at him to sense his curiosity as he steps back. “Oh?”

Nanao takes a moment to dissipate the barrier, resisting the urge to shake away the tingling sensation that lingers in her palm. “I… _might_ have implied that the barrier was already perfected. Or at least much more complete that it is.”

“You bluffed them.” His eyes absolutely sparkle in amusement when she finally turns to look. “My brilliant, _brilliant_ Nanao-chan.”

“Yes, well. They’re hardly qualified to call my bluff,” she answers none too bluntly, determinedly not blushing at the praise; really, it’s been too long since they’ve worked together like this for any extended time. “As it is now, the barrier won’t stand up against more than a few arrows, much less a full-scale attack.”

He sobers, and Nanao knows his thoughts are already racing ahead; for all his other tendencies, there’s no denying that her captain is one of the smartest shinigami the Gotei 13 has ever seen.

She might be more well-versed in the technicalities of kido (and she doubts even that, sometimes) but he hadn’t been called a prodigy for nothing, even if she has no idea how he’d survived the rigours of the Academy. With copious amounts of help from Ukitake-taichou, no doubt.

He moves to stand beside her, putting them on the same side of where the barrier had been. “Show me again how you built it?”

* * *

**v.**

Shunsui feels nothing but bone-deep weariness as he steps back onto the grounds of the Eighth Division, though he still manages a smile and a nod for all the division members around him.

It’s a score he’d settled with himself long ago, back when he first agreed to the position of captain. To bear the responsibility for the lives of every last person in his division; perhaps it would have been easier if he’d been someone for whom that weighed less, but he had eventually made some kind of peace with it nonetheless.

But to hold the lives of every last person in the Gotei 13, and beyond that to everyone they have a duty to protect… Shunsui doesn’t know if he can handle that, for all that the choice had never been put in his hands. He’d just barely taken up the role on paper and already he fiercely misses the days when all he’d been responsible for were the lives of those who thronged past him now –

…hang on. _Why_ are there so many people in the courtyard, anyway?

He meets Nanao coming out of their office. “Nanao-chan! I was just about to ask you to gather everyone in the courtyard.”

“I assumed you might, so I took the liberty of sending out the summons once you left Central 46’s chambers,” she says briskly, like it’s nothing at all. “It’ll be better for them to hear the news directly from us, and something like this won’t remain secret for long. I’d be surprised if there weren’t already rumours going around, really–”

Her words are cut off at the arrival of a Hell Butterfly, and they both pause to listen: a message from one of the teams patrolling out in Rukongai, saying they’ll need a little more time to arrive.

Nanao sends a brief acknowledgement back as they slow to a stop at a corner of the training grounds, with the raised dais that usually sees far more use for practical zanjutsu demonstrations rather than anything formal; frankly Shunsui can barely remember the last time either of them had called a full gathering of the Eighth Division like this.

“Are you sure about this, Nanao-chan?”

“Weren’t you the one who said something about not asking questions we both know the answer to, Kyouraku-taichou?”

She’s looking at him – at least not directly – but Shunsui thinks he sees the faintest touch of colour on her face, and can’t help but wonder what’s on his.

No offence to Lisa-chan, but Ise Nanao really _is_ the best vice-captain he’s ever had, and he’s fiercely glad and just as utterly terrified that she’ll be following him for a while yet.

They both look up at the approaching cluster of reiatsu signatures, and Nanao nods, confirming that it’s the last patrol team they’d been waiting for.

Shunsui gives it another few minutes, then steps up onto the dais.

A hush falls immediately upon the courtyard like a physical weight.

“Good evening, everyone. This is the last time I’ll be addressing you as your captain. Effective tomorrow, I will be officially promoted to the Captain of the First Division, and Captain-Commander of the Gotei 13.”

That garners more than a few murmurs, but Shunsui scans the crowd and finds no real shock in what he sees there. That’s good – it means that he’s trained them to be smart, to know how to read a situation and see its likely outcomes, though he’ll readily admit that is far more Nanao-chan’s effort than his.

He continues when the voices fade. “Ise-fukutaichou will also subsequently transfer to the First Division, and take up the position of lieutenant alongside current Third Seat Okikiba.”

The reaction is noticeably louder this time, with an audible undercurrent of surprise, albeit mostly from the newer members.

(Shunsui wonders at the back of his mind if that means he’d been getting predictable, then decides he doesn’t really care. Not this once, at least.)

He turns to where Nanao stands, waiting, and she steps up beside him without further prompting. “I will remain at the Eighth Division until my transfer is finalised. After that, Third Seat Enjoji will take leadership in the interim, and I fully expect that you will follow his orders to the letter.”

She pauses for a moment, before adding, a touch softer, “Although I may no longer be your commanding officer in the future, you are still welcome to seek me out in the First Division should the need arise. For those of you who are receiving additional training in kidou, our sessions will continue as usual. Any questions?”

* * *

* * *

**0.**

Kyouraku-taichou hands her the letter bearing Central 46’s stamp, and she reads it in the space of a breath. It’s surprisingly short and to the point, for all that she can already tell that it will herald one of the most pivotal moments in her life.

(Not _the most_ ; that was a hundred and two years ago. But close, she thinks.)

Nanao reads it one more time and looks up. “You plan to go without me.”

She keeps her voice even, as neutral as she can muster – it’s only a betrayal if she sees it as one.

To his credit, her captain answers the question directly. “I want you to stay at the Eighth, yes.”

Nanao opens her mouth to protest, to say something, anything – she doesn’t even know what, frankly – but he raises a hand to stop her.

And she does. Because Kyouraku Shunsui is many things, many of them less than complimentary, but he’s never tried to silence her before.

“Nanao-chan, please. Hear me out.” His gaze speaks volumes that she can’t entirely parse. “The Quincies are coming back. Tell me, what will they do then?”

And now Nanao wants to protest, to point out that she might be the planner between them but _he’s_ the strategist, to say that she’s never even stepped foot in a battle before let alone tried to _predict_ one, but.

But. Even knowing this – and he definitely knows, the certainty of mutual familiarity is the entire foundation of their working relationship – he has decided to ask her, and she will not betray that expectation.

“I’d assume… a full-scale attack?” she begins tentatively, and is surprised when her voice comes out steadier than she expects. “Against the Seireitei. Possibly the whole of Soul Society, if they have the resources for it.”

He nods, more patient than she remembers ever seeing, and Nanao tries desperately to think, to force her mind down the unfamiliar path of thought. They have virtually no information on this enemy other than what happened the last time –

\- the _last time_.

The breath freezes in her throat. “You think they’re going to come for the Captain-Commander. You.”

“I don’t just think so, Nanao-chan,” he answers, and she wishes for a fleeting moment not to already know what comes next. “I’m certain of it.”

Her captain says it tiredly, weariness reflected plainly on his face for her to see, and that has everything and nothing to do with her reply.

“I’m coming with you.”

“I was afraid you’d say that.” His expression is wry. “I haven’t put anything in officially, but I’m planning to promote Third Seat Okikiba to lieutenant.”

“Appoint two lieutenants, then. Captains have the sole and final discretion over the command structure of their division, that law has been set in stone since the founding of the Gotei 13.” This much is familiar territory to her – she knows every rule in the book like the back of her hand. “Even the Central 46 can’t argue with you on that.”

He huffs out what might’ve been a laugh on any other day, though his eyes are still completely serious. “And there’s nothing I can do or say to change your mind?”

He’s stopped beating around the bush when it really matters, sometime between then and now, and Nanao appreciates it.

“No,” she says, and means every ounce of finality in the word. “There isn’t.”

“The Eighth Division is your home, Nanao-chan. You’ve been here since the first day you became a shinigami.”

“And you’ve been its captain for even longer.” She doesn’t need to let the determination show in her face, because he will see it anyway. “I’ll oversee the administration both divisions myself, if that proves necessary. You’re not leaving me here, Kyouraku-taichou.”

“Nanao-chan…” He smiles, wistful. “When did you get so strong?”

(It’s not meant as an insult, and she doesn’t take it as one. She knows – from the way he looks at her sometimes, when he thinks she isn’t paying attention – she knows that some part of him still can’t help thinking of her as that little girl who’d come to read stories with Yadomaru-san.

Nanao understands. She still feels more than a bit like that girl too, sometimes, for all that she has changed, for everything that she’s gained and lost since then.)

She holds his gaze as she reaches up to undo the sash of the lieutenant’s badge on her arm, holding it up to him. “When you weren’t looking, of course.”

Ever so gently, he closes her fingers around the Eighth Division’s – _their_ division’s emblem, calloused palm warm against her skin. “Oh, but I always am, didn’t you know?”

Nanao allows herself a wry smile at that, and everything feels just a touch brighter again, at least for now. She can be sentimental later – because he’s right, the Eighth has been her home for what feels like forever - but not now.

Now is the time to act, and she knows exactly what to do.

* * *

* * *

**+1.**

It’s the one thing that _has_ changed, since their move to the First Division. They’ve always been too close to have a strictly professional relationship, at least in the way most people would define it.

Still, it’s never been like this.

When Kyouraku-taichou stops by the office or the training room these days he doesn’t offer transparent excuses to cover for checking in on her; instead he stops cloaking his insights in directionless rambling, stops hiding away the sharpest edges of his intellect where no one will get cut on them. In return Nanao finds herself telling him more than she would’ve ever said before, and not just about the progress of her kidou development – she doesn’t even remember the last time she had to raise her voice at him, even over the paperwork.

She’d always known that he would listen regardless, but seeing it is another thing. It’s almost as if they had set aside not just the leadership of the Eighth behind them when they left, but also some of who they’d been, a set of masks that Nanao hadn’t honestly thought they would ever be without.

Or perhaps her thoughts are just running melodramatic now that she’s stayed up with nearly no rest for too many days in a row trying to figure out this defence against the Quincies, but the too-bright haze of tiredness doesn’t even matter because she’s _done_ it.

She puts up the barrier again, just to feel the unmistakeable clarity of a kidou built right – a wall she can put between them and the enemies that might come for him, this time for real, and it doesn’t matter how draining it is because she can hold it anyway.

She knows she can.

“Nanao-chan. Your hands,” he says, sounding dismayed.

Only then does she register that her fingers are stiff in their pose, and he waits for her to dispel the barrier first before catching her hands in his, bringing warmth and healing kidou in turns until they slowly uncurl.

“You know what they say.” She leans forward, lets her head almost rest on his shoulder, because maybe she’s more exhausted than she thought now that the high of success has worn off. “Bring kidou to a sword fight. Always a great idea.”

He laughs, and it’s genuine. She’s glad to hear it. “Only you, Nanao-chan. Only you.”

Nanao doesn’t realise until moments before she dozes off that he’s shifted so that her head rests comfortably on his shoulder, all the while humming a song under his breath that only stops short of being inappropriate because he isn’t _actually_ singing the lyrics aloud.

(She’ll scold him about that when she wakes up, she decides, but for now she doesn’t mind it at all.)

**Author's Note:**

> (this one goes with a heartfelt shoutout to everyone from my brief but beautiful time in the bleach suggestions community, and especially my two muses @jushirosuggestions and @nanaosuggestions – i hope you're both doing well, wherever you are)


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